Love Is
by LionQueen
Summary: Elizabeth is one woman looking to help someone she loves. Harry is one man lost, and doesn't know it. Both discover that in the center of it all, Love lives, Love burns ... Love is. Oc but canon focused. Appearances by Spiderman  Peter  MJ and Bernard
1. Chapter 1

_**Love Is …**_

_It has been said that all anyone ever needs is one person who truly loves him. Love is all you need. Love conquers all. Love makes the world go round. Love is not jealous. Love cares nothing for vanity or pride. Love hopes and believes in everything that is good, even when everything hopeless is before it. _

_Love is a strange thing. Love hurts and heals all at once. _

_If a person could fully describe with words the depth, width and heighth of love, that person could then gather the complete expanse of the oceans, lakes, rivers and ponds and pour them all into one single glass. _

_It is easier and much more accurate to simply say … love is. ... LionQueen 2007_

**Chapter 1 - _Time For Everything_**

Elizabeth took slow and deliberate steps up the stairs and to the intimidating front door. Cradling the manila folder in the crook of her arm, she withstood a sudden flash of doubt, hesitated slightly and then pushed her thumb into the glowing button that was the doorbell.

She cleared her throat, glancing at her shoes, but flicked her eyes up when the heavy door creaked open. There stood a distinguished looking gentleman. He smiled warmly. "Hello madam. What may I do for you? And won't you please come in from the chill? "

"Thank you. My name is Elizabeth Myer. I was sent by the agency for the housekeeping position. I have my resume and references with me. "

"I see. " Said the man. "But that really won't be necessary as your position is already secure, my dear. Mr. Osborne has already left instructions for the conditions of your employment and your pay, of course. "

_By Mr. Osborne, Elizabeth was well aware that he meant Harold Osborne, the only child of the late multimillionaire and industrialist Norman Osborne. _

While she had not performed an exhaustive investigation, she had managed a scanty bit of research. Enough to know that Norman had studied chemistry and electrical engineering in college and eventually established his company with his partner Dr. Mendel Stromm.

During that time, he wed his college sweetheart Emily, although she grew ill and died sometime after, leaving behind a grieving and inept father, unable to relate very well to his young son. Moreover, Norman Osborne, himself, died recently, as well, and rather mysteriously. There remained, in this lofty and stately old mansion his only son Harry, heir to the waning Osborne empire, along with whatever hired help he was able to tolerate, or some might say, of whom would tolerate him.

Though Elizabeth was not one to waste time on worthless tabloids, she did occasionally skim the pages of the Daily Bugle over a cup of coffee at the nearest pastry shop. The ones of late painted a glib picture of the brooding bachelor. He had accumulated quite the reputation around the local clusters of coffee shops and restaurants, not to mention several department stores and other businesses. He carried a disgruntled demeanor and had made a habit of snapping at anyone brave enough to service him, be it waitress or sales representative.

In the beginning, most passed his growing animosity as a part of the grieving process, being that he had lost his father and only living relative some short time ago. Now it had been several years. Patience among those who serve the public and of the public itself can only hold for so long, before a frequently offensive customer earns himself a negative standing. Thus, those willing to bear under the intolerable grump had dwindled to few and far in between.

The Butler introduced himself as Bernard, and then prompted her to follow his lead through the expansive mansion, and up the staircase until they reached a small room. It was neatly kept, with a full-sized bed, a walkin closet, and a private bath. Smaller, compared to other rooms in the mansion, it was more than what she was accustomed to growing up in her father's home.

"This will be your room. " Bernard instructed. "I think that you will need a little time to gather your things and bring them here. Therefore, your duties will begin tomorrow morning at six a.m. Then we will go over the details, including your pay. "

Elizabeth smiled graciously although hiding, with some success, the nervousness inside with a nod of appreciation. Then she followed the staircase down to the first floor, and returned to the chilly overcast sky. It had been an unusually warm November, but nearing the early days of December, a much colder future was forecast and snow was expected within the next day or so. She flicked her eyes upwards, thankful for good timing.

She continued on until she had reached the small, blue Yugo parked some ways from the Mansion gates. It wasn't much of a car, with the lining of the roof held up by thumbtacks, but it served its purpose …_to get her wherever she needed to go_.

The prospect of employment by such notoriety was far from the cause of her anxiety. She had never been dishonest or lacking in scruples, taking pride in being raised under the schoolmaster of proper values. Such values as, live with whatever resources life presented you with, never resenting the next man for having more than yourself, and never tell a lie.

She had never strayed from her upbringing. Never, however, until she found herself cornered in a manner that left her with few options. She hated being dishonest, even in the slightest respect.

She paid the parking fee, and ran the car around in circles until she'd found a suitable space. _She hated hospitals. _

He didn't look much better since she'd left him last. But he tried to put up a good front for her benefit. They both knew that she knew differently, but neither admitted it. She smiled and strolled across the room, giving him a peck on the forehead. "Hi Daddy. "

"Hey there, baby. "

She drew a seat next to his bed, and then took his hand. "I have some news. "

"Well, then out with it. Are you gettin' married? "

She laughed lightheartedly, as she always did. "Not even close. I found a job. A really good one and you'll never guess. "

"You're right … I won't. "

"Ah, you're no fun! Okay, I'm cleaning the Osborne mansion. "

He studied her for a minute, and then gave a chuckle. "Ah, you're joshin your old man. "

She smiled warmly, thinking he looked a bit paler than before. "No. No, I walked in and got the job. I settle in my new room today and then start tomorrow. At six a.m. if you can believe it! "

"Now I KNOW you're yankin my chain! You getting up before eleven? "

She laughed again and then told him everything she knew about her knew employment, promising to fill him in on the finer details once she had settled in. He insisted she tell him everything she could learn about the young Osborne and she just shook her head and smiled. Her father, though just as well a man as any other, loved harmless gossip as any woman. And she loved him for it. Although she could not help being amused when he pointed out that Sir Harry was a very eligible bachelor.

"And I wonder why he's still a bachelor. " She said, referring to his less than cordial reputation.

They chatted until she saw that he was tired and then she insisted she would return sometime tomorrow, but that until then, he should get some rest. She wasn't prepared for the third degree from the nurses. She squeezed his hand, gave him another kiss, and then said her goodbye.

She was stopped on her way out, having been instructed to pass by the billing department. She sighed and nodded, a growing knot in her stomach. Once she could no longer make payments, the care of her father was at the mercy of the hospital.

"Ms. Myer, we sympathize with how difficult all this must be, but you must understand our position. "

" I do. " She agreed. " If you could just give me a little more time. I've just gotten a new job and I should get my first check by the first of next week. "

" Very well then. " The grey-haired nurse relented. " But I simply cannot turn my head much longer. "

She thanked the nurse softly and then turned, making her way down the hallway until she reached the elevator. The sound of her heels clicked louder with each step. Punching the down button, she waited until the doors opened, stepped in and then waited until they opened again.

It was enough that she absolutely could not bring herself to tell him that they were short on funds to pay the property taxes on the house. She could not let her father go without healthcare, even if it meant that she left the car and slept on the streets.

She was walking through the parking garage, lost in her thoughts when she realized what was happening. She saw the two men slinking around the side, but it didn't register initially that they were headed in the direction of her car. Then she heard the crashing sound and flicked her eyes up in enough time to see them smashing in the side window with a crowbar.

Her heart jumped in her throat. " Hey, what are you doing! Stop it!! Stop! "

She bolted towards the car in her heels, screaming at them. It was a useless effort for they simply stood erect and then one grabbed her as soon as she reached them. He flipped her around, pressing her back into the car. " Well, what have we here? What's such a pretty thing like you driving a piece of crap like that? "

" That's right. " She agreed. " It is a piece of crap and there's nothing in it worth steeling. Why don't you just walk away? "

" I dunno. You might be hiding something good in those suitcases back there, and then there's the matter of the little purse in your hand. "

The other grinned wholeheartedly. " And then there's you. "

The first had her wrists in a tight clench. He returned the grin with a wink. " That's a very good observation there, my friend. Now we have this pretty little girl to play with. "

" No!! " She screamed. " Help!! Somebody hel .."

Her cries were muffled when the fat, sweaty hand went over her mouth. She wasn't giving up though. As it was coming down, she clenched her teeth together, tasting some of the dirty skin she'd bitten. Once he recoiled, she thrust a pointed heel into his crotch. This cost her one large, furious man howling out profanities, slapping her up on the hood of the car as if she were nothing more than a chunk of meat.

He leapt onto the hood with her. Pinning her arms, he placed a thick rear end on her legs.

"Didn't your daddy teach you manners, little girl? "

There was a whooshing sound, and then the man was thrown from the car, landing on the floor with a smack. " Looks like yours didn't. "

Elizabeth stared at the one talking. She knew the red and blue suit, with the spider emblem embroidered on the front. She had read the articles in the Daily Bugle, and seen his picture splattered everywhere, but this was the first time she'd seen him in person, or heard him speak.

The big man slid a knife from a holder fitted snugly around his calf. He bent his knees, squaring himself for a fight. " What, you think you're all tough because you wear pantyhose? "

" It's not worth it Sam, let's get outta here!" The second man cried out, turning his back and running out of the parking garage.

A thread of webbing quickly yanked the knife from Sam's hand. He chunked a piece from a cement block at the webcrawler and then bolted towards the exit behind his partner. " You're nothing but a wimp Frank, wait till I catch up with you!"

Spiderman whipped around, but Elizabeth spoke up. She'd slid from the roof of her car, and stood beside it watching the two men running. "It's okay, please … just let them go. I don't really want any trouble. "

" Are you alright? " He said.

She nodded, sighing heavily at the sight of her broken window. " Yea. "

She had enough to worry about without having the added stress of dealing with the police and everything else that came with reporting an attempted burglary and whatever the two men had planned for her. But she couldn't even think about that. Regardless, she still had her car and the meager sum her belongings with it.

Admittedly, it was already a crappy vehicle, barely worth driving … but it was hers.

Recognizing that her hero was still hovering, she wiped her face dry and then turned. " Thank you. Thank you for your help. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there. "

He tilted his head. " You sure you're alright? "

She laughed stressfully through her attempt at holding back a rush of emotion. " Yea. "

" Are you living out of your car? "

" What? " Her head jerked back a little and then she stole a quick glance over to her backseat where lie a suitcase, blanket and a pillow. " Oh … God no. I'm just …well…I just started a new job and I was just. Well …I …I thought Spiderman just rescued people and then kind of vanished … poofed or_ whatever_. "

" You're welcome. "

"I'm sorry. " She flustered. "I didn't ... that didn't come out right. I just meant, I've never heard of anybody having a full blown conversation with Spiderman …uh …you."

" So, you'll be alright then? "

" Right as rain. " She answered enthusiastically - _nearly over enthusiastically_.

She watched him throw a line of webbing out until it hit the outside rooftop, and then he was gone.

She leaned over the steering wheel, waiting for the yellow bar to clear her way out, but flinched when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She knew she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't help but fear that those guys might be out there somewhere waiting until she was alone.

She drove through the streets, thinking how abandoned they looked._Abnormally abandoned_. Or maybe she just felt that way. The temperature was steadily dropping since the moment she stepped out of the hospital.

Stopped at a redlight, tiny droplets of snow flaked her windsheild, gathering in little clusters at the bottom. She leaned over the top of the wheel and rested her head on her arms. Looked like the snow was going to be earlier than expected.

" _Come on sweetheart, and I'll show you how to make snow angels. " _

_Anyone passing by would have thought it odd to see a man of his size lying flat on his back in the snow, flailing his arms and legs up and down. But Thomas Myer had never been a proud man. Not in the sense of being above doing just about anything for his little girl. They had made their snowman and dressed him in flannel. They had fought their snowball war until they'd fallen happily into the soft snow bank. Now they lay there, listening to the snowfall and catching snowflakes on their tongues. _

She'd taken his hand before he was admitted. To see him suffer was to suffer herself and she could hardly bear it. Watching her father wither away proudly. _" But Daddy, I could … " _

" _There's a time for everything Baby. And no matter what you do, there's some things that just have to be and you can't change them even when you change them. " _

She jumped at the blast of a car horn behind her. How long had the light been green? She put her foot on the gas, revving the engine more than she'd intended - not that such a sorry excuse for a car would go anywhere quickly anyway.

She drove close the entrance of the mansion, but not enough to easily be seen. Then she emptied the trunk and the back seat of her two suitcases while shoving the blanket and pillow into her dufflebag. She stopped for a moment, pressing her hand on the side window and spreading her fingers across the glass.

" _There's a time for everything Baby. And no matter what you do, there's some things that just have to be and you can't change them even when you change them. " _

"If only you weren't so stubborn. " She whispered, watching the tiny flakes flit in between her fingers. Then she turned towards the mansion, dragging her luggage with her.

Behind her sat a blue Yugo, under a winter night sky, with snowflakes bouncing off of the side window and then gathering at the bottom.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sometimes you meet a stranger, find warmth within him, and you know that you will be friends for a very long time. Sometimes you meet a stranger, and you know that somewhere, at some other time, you've met him before. Sometimes you meet a stranger, and you know that this is someone who will change your life forever. _

_- LionQueen 2007_

* * *

_** Chapter 2 - Fate to Will**_

Elizabeth's new bedroom, though plainer than others in the Osborne mansion - which seemed to her a castle - was more elaborate than she expected. Centered in the room was a queen-sized bed, raised high upon a solid cherry wood frame that curved in the middle (at the head and foot) much in the likeness of a camel hump. The comfy mattress was blanketed with soft sheets and topped with a thick quilt that was reminiscent of a red-checkered flannel shirt.

Beside it stood a matching wooden side table, supporting a gooseneck lamp. On the other side of the room sat a full-sized dresser. The short, tan rug that greeted the door stopped short just under the middle of the bed, revealing a smooth hardwood floor.

Overall, the room was very clean and tidy, almost to the point of feeling untouchable. And on this night, Elizabeth felt strange entering it. She was hauling her things in there and disturbing the order of elegance. This is what she felt at least. It was like the first snow, blanketing the ground. Pure white snow, clean and free of footprints or dirt, sparkling in the frosty air.

And so the morning glimmered through the wall-sized, wood framed double-french glass doors, over an undisturbed bed and Elizabeth who was curled up comfortably upon a red upholstered chaise longue. _There was a knock at the door. _

"Pardon me Miss Elizabeth. But it is six - thirty. Is everything all right? "

Elizabeth rose groggily at first and then flew up from the chair. Six-Thirty? Her first day and she was already running late! "Yes Mr. Albert! I'm so sorry. I'll be right out! "

She stood, staring a moment at the finger of sunlight dancing on the floor. She released the latch that held the french doors shut and then let them swing open, shivering under the icy breeze and stepped out on the small snow covered balcony. Flurries were still about and the wind played with them, tossing them here and there. She blinked whenever one bounced on her eyelashes.

Casting a green-eyed gaze over the ornate railing, she drew a long breath. Fresh, crisp snow sparkling under the winter sun, catching its rays in twinkles. Somehow, within this tiny bottle of time, everything was right. Somehow, there was nothing to worry about or to shoulder all on her own. Somehow, she understood why her father preferred nature to will. Somehow, she knew she could do this.

"Oh my, " Bernard noted when he saw the room. " Either you are very good at putting things back where you found them or you didn't sleep in your bed last night. "

It sounded very strange when he said it … _in your bed_. It was nice to hear but yet so foreign all the same. She had never, nor would she ever begrudge her fathers home. He raised her there on an honest salary and she hardly wanted for anything, although there are those would have complained or whined because some other child had designer shoes or other such nonsense.

This expansive home, however, seemed to diminish the modest one where she was reared until it seemed just a speck in comparison. Moreover, to claim this room as her own felt almost disloyal. As if she were somehow dishonoring the efforts of her father who was willing to give everything he had for his little girl. She supposed this was the larger reason she found it so difficult to make herself comfortable.

She flicked her eyes between Bernard and the chair and then motioned with her hand.

"Oh, well I fell asleep on the … that. "

"The chaise longue? " He finished.

"Chaise longue? _Right. _Yes, I fell asleep there. "

"And you didn't unpack your things either. "

"Yes, well … I guess I was very tired. "

"No matter. " He responded. "Let me show you the home and explain your duties. "

Bernard led her through so many rooms that she lost count. There was one in particular that she made a special effort to remember. One of which she did not get to view the interior, but rather stood on the outside staring at the closed door. Bernard explained that this was the bedroom of the late Norman Osborne and was off limits to anyone but Bernard. He alone would visit it weekly to ensure that it was dusted and cleaned.

Elizabeth was wandering the study when she first met Harold Osborn. It was well past noon and Bernard had finished his tour. She had spotted another Chaise Longue and for some reason she had no reason for … it drew her to it. The room itself had a strange feel, as if there were secrets there beneath the polished wood, and the masculine inspired furniture.

_Something uncomfortable. _

It was the picture, however, that truly made her blood run cold. A heavy wooden frame, nearly the size of the wall itself, contained within it the portrait of a man, forty perhaps, but no older than early fifty. He was poised smugly in a black pinstripe suite, with one leg crossed over the other and a hand draped over the arm of a peach colored, leaf motif chair, its back raised high above his head and flaring out like an oriental fan. None of this was the most disturbing even still.

This man, who smiled down on her wryly, under a mane of brown hair, slicked back from his face, peered out with dark brown eyes. Eyes that knew she was there, staring back at him. She might later convince herself that it was mere lighting or the disturbing ambiance of a large and mostly deserted mansion, but for the moment, the air was cold and the room emptier than just the absence of another person, and her hair was standing on end all along her arms.

Then she lost her breath. _She was certain she had heard a whisper_. A soft, but unsettling, rambling so faint that it was actually less than a whisper. A feeling on the verge of being audible. She wrenched around and gasped.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing in here? "

Elizabeth nearly choked on her own tongue. It was a face, much like the man in the painting. Large, deep set brown eyes, hair combed back. Nearly the same man - but years younger.

He stood rigidly, with a tight jaw and glared down at her.

She blinked; mouth gaped open, unable to eek a sound out of her throat.

"Oh, Mr. Osborn. " Bernard called, joining the two of them. "This is Miss Elizabeth. The agency sent her for the housekeeping job, sir. Today is her first day and I was showing her the mansion. "

"Housekeeper? "

"Why, yes sir. "

Eyes narrowed, his face relaxed slightly. It wasn't until now that she'd noticed the smell of alcohol all around him. Strange to see a man of his age and caliber intoxicated at such an hour. Yet, beneath the stern features, there was something. Something different from everything she'd read about him, different from the stories she had heard about town.

Elizabeth's father had quickly discerned early on that she saw easily, what most people never think to stop and look for. It was a subtle gift, but one that allowed her a small portion of patience along with humility. She could do this, because she simply understood. Not in details, or words, but in feelings that couldn't really be described.

When her eyes met his, though seemingly hard and unbending, she saw someone else behind them, looking back at her. Someone who didn't want anyone to know he was there because it was safer that way. It was easier. He would rather that she didn't notice him, but she did. This was the man inside who few knew existed.

For several minutes, they stood there, with an odd silence between them. Both staring at each other and finding that neither could glance away. Bernard remained off to the side, but between them concealing the hint of a smile under his usual dutiful expression.

Harry finally, shifted his jaw and then drew a breath. "Elizabeth? "

"Yes sir. "

"Fine then. " He relented. "You'll report to Bernard. If I need you, I'll call you. Otherwise, stay out of my way. "

Elizabeth gave a quick nod. "Yes sir, thank you. "

It was strange, referring to a man her own age as 'sir. 'Something she was not accustomed to but necessary is she was to retain her new position and care for her father.

She stole a final glance at the painting, with lingering whispers in her ears, and then followed Bernard into the hallway, releasing a puff of air. "So, Mr. Osborn. "

Bernard smiled. "Yes. That was Mr. Harry. "

"And the painting? "

"Mr. Harry is an accomplished artist, Miss Elizabeth. Now it's nothing more than a hobby, although even that isn't true of him anymore. I thought you would be bright enough to notice the resemblance between the two of them. The painting is of Mr. Norman, naturally. "

Elizabeth caught a glimpse of warmth in his eyes, and heard the same in his voice. "Naturally " She smiled back.

"Miss Elizabeth. " He said, slowing down and facing her. "This house has been through its share of workers, but I think the agency made the right choice this time. You are going to do just fine here. "

"Mr. Bernard … "

"Please, dear, just call me Bernard. "

She nodded, and then managed to respond. "Only if you call me Elizabeth. "

Bernard smiled again, this time placing a hand on her shoulder. "Very well then … Elizabeth. "

"Thank you … Bernard. "

Elizabeth climbed the stairs, paying more attention to the heavy wooden frame and the post toppings that looked like carved pineapple. The railing was smooth to the touch, and gleamed under the low lights of the elaborate chandeliers. It would take some time before she would feel at home here. Bernard had helped her feel a bit closer to comfortable.

_Then there was the thing she was trying very hard not to think about_.

She changed clothes, covered herself in the only good coat and scarf that she owned, and then made her way downstairs. She pushed the button to the elevator, and still could not manage to overlook the fact that she personally knew someone who had an elevator in his own home.

When the doors opened, she flinched just a little when someone stepped out of it. An anassuming man, also close to her own age, dressed in a black wool coat. He steadied her, and then flicked large blue eyes over her face. "Whoa, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright? "

She blinked, and then stared back dazedly. " Wh …what did you say? "

"Are you alright? "

"_Are you alright?" _Why did he seem so familiar, this man with a boyish face? She bobbed her head slowly, staring at him with narrowed brows. "Do I …Do I know you?"

"Um … I guess not. I'm Peter … Peter Parker. "

"Oh … the photographer? " She said, then more thoughtfully. "The one who takes the Spiderman photos ... "

"Yeah, " He grinned. " That's me. You got your window fixed! That was fast! "

"My window? Well … how did you know about that? "

"Peter Parker. What a surprise! " Harry's voice carried with it a distinct malice.

"Nice meeting you. " Peter said to Elizabeth, and then she stepped into the elevator, but she was unable to avoid hearing the raised voices above her.

She strolled silently, listening to the crunch of her shoes pressing into the clean snow. The frigid breeze tossed her dark cherry hair about her face, sometimes throwing it into her eyes. She paused when she spotted a motor scooter parked near the front of the mansion. The raised side mirror caught the sun in a silvery pool of glass and reflected it as short flashes of light. She glanced at it for a moment and then continued.

Her Yugo was waiting for her, not far from the gate, but far enough for anyone to spot her. It was hardly a carriage, albeit she was hardly a princess. She stopped for a moment, looking at it there sitting in the snow. She had to brush away the thick cover of loose ice from the windshield and the back window. She slid her key into the driver's side door, but then left the key in the lock, lifting her eyes to the shiny new window. The flurries had gathered so at the bottom of the glass that they had formed miniature drifts partially up the window.

_She watched Spiderman disappear from the parking garage and then once he was gone, she turned her head side to side, looking to see if anyone else were there. Seeing no one, she drew a breath, spreading her palm across the door and then closed her eyes. _

Thinking about this, Elizabeth spread her fingertips over the cold glass, once more, staring at her own reflection.

"… _No matter what you do, there are some things that just have to be and you can't change them even when you change them. "_

Perhaps if she had told him everything. If he knew that she was loosing their home, and what she had been faced with in full, maybe he would have relented and allowed her to help him the way they both knew she could. It was pointless now. She had done everything she knew to do to protect him. Though it would be the hardest task she had ever been faced with, she would be true to him and demonstrate her love by doing exactly what he asked.

_By not interfering with fate. _


	3. Under the Mask

_There is a thin, albeit, fractured line perhaps, between love and hate. At least that's what philosophers, poets and sages have preached. _

_The ones we loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns. _

_Those who we've admired and adored, in whom the mere presence of, we've thrived and blossomed, like a tree under the summer sun, who's voice was like water to our souls, just as easily become as hard as the cold winter freeze. _

_There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only deliverance from hate. _

_A man can utter a thousand words, but if he has no love, he merely vomits an incomprehensible diatribe, a loud and senseless noise. _

_LionQueen - 2008 _

**Chapter 3 - _Under the Mask _**

Harry Osborne eyed the woolen-clothed figure lurking near the elevator, grinding his teeth, while considering the variety of ways he could throw him out. Long gone was the amiable bonding once nurtured between them since their school years.

Back then, Harry just wanted to be normal. He wanted to be like all the other kids. The ones who rode the bus instead of being chauffeured by his millionaire father. And Peter was the one kid who treated him just like everybody else.

They were inseparable. Yet, even then, there was a quiet contempt brewing under the surface their warm friendship. After the many years of strife and longing, Harry often noticed the spark of respect in Normans eye - not for himself, but Peter. The approval and respect Harry coveted, Peter earned effortlessly. It seemed as though Peter had single-handedly stolen his birthright. The proverbial Jacob taking everything right from under Esau's nose without the smallest sense of remorse. So it appeared.

Yet, aside from the twinge of envy churning in his gut, Harry would divert his thoughts, assuring himself that Norman had unleashed this outlandish display of favoritism on an oblivious Peter, with the intent of provoking his son to jealousy. He would have believed anything back then, to ensure that he had at least one friend. One person he could trust, or deceive himself into believing he could trust.

But all of that was in the past now. Now he knew the truth about Peter Parker, and the night that darkened Harry's soul. He would never give Peter the benefit of the doubt again.

Peter stared back at Harry, detecting the odor of alcohol and feeling a bit disheartened by the red-rimmed eyes glaring into his. He should have noted the reckless contempt and left him alone to fester, hoping that he would one day emerge from the shadow having endured his grieving and discovered his friends waiting for him on the other side. But, even though a very angered and bitter young man replaced his faithful comrade, Peter would be just as reckless in his attempt to repair their broken friendship.

Harry tipped his head down while raising his eyes and growled. " You've got some nerve, Parker … walking in here like this. "

Peter stood up straight, but with rounded shoulders and said meekly. "It's Pete, Harry … Remember?"

"Look, I just wanted to ..."

"To what? Give me a reason to chunk you from the third floor window? I don't think I need anymore reason for that!"

_It was a calm but eerily restless night. It could have been the way Mary Jane stormed out of his and Peters apartment after hearing Norman practically calling her a whore and then finding Peter holding her hand in Aunt May's hospital room. Or, it might have been the recently growing threat of the downfall of the Osborn Empire._

_Any of the above could have easily sent him pacing the floor at the midnight hour, but none of these bothered him more than the last words spoken between him and his father. _

_Perhaps Mary Jane had been some kind of conquest in the beginning. If Peter could steal away his fathers approval, then maybe somewhere inside him, winning M.J. was in some way taking something back. Yet, he did care for her didn't he? _

_But, it wasn't enough for Peter to steal his fathers respect and admiration for himself, that which belonged to Harry, he had to have M.J. as well. _

_He knew nowhere else to go. Feeling betrayed and despondent, he'd found himself looking for solace within the only place he knew as home … the Osborn mansion. _

_He was strolling through the inner rooms … but then turned. _

_This was the first night he would hear the voice. That peculiar utterance - like a whisper and a yell all at once. And though this foreign tone echoed through the upstairs study, Harry called the only name he knew to call for. "Dad? Dad is that you? " _

_He didn't know what he would see, or hear next. There was a hush that sucked the air from the room, and then a shadow. A lanky figure appeared at the top of the staircase and then descended one step at a time as if in slow motion. _

_Harry stared at Norman gazing down at him from the staircase and then admitted weakly, "You were right about Mary Jane. She loves Peter." _

_Norman stopped, wide-eyed and hung on every word. "And how does Peter feel about her?"_

_Harry sighed and admitted that Peter had loved her since the fourth grade. _

_A moment such as this should have provided the opportunity for Norman to wrench the knife of rejection in even deeper, but he responded quite differently. His features grew painfully saddened as he begrudged his neglectfulness and then embraced his love-starved son vowing to be more attentive - more fatherly. _

_Harry should have been overwhelmingly pleased. Yet, something was amiss with this unpredictable change. Something that Harry wouldn't discern clearly until some time later, when he was far too engaged in the hunger for revenge to care - the same hunger that had driven his own father to his demise. _

_So, he found himself wandering the mansion again, in the middle of the night … this night … wondering where Norman could be at such an hour. _

_He passed by one of the studies and glimpsed the open door, and then paused at the rustling coming from behind it. Could Norman have been there all along while Harry had been pacing the floor, fretting over his welfare?_

_Harry slipped inside the room and froze. There was the red and blue hero lowering Norman into the brown daybed. He locked eyes with the webcrawler. He then flung his hand into the desk and clenched the gun hiding within it. He turned, aimed the weapon and found only the wind tossing the thin white curtains in the cold winter breeze. _

Even now, he could feel the cold night air chilling his skin while he knelt on the hard floor and bent over his father_. _

_He stared glassy-eyed and then pressed his hands over Norman's face, screaming as if yelling would somehow wake him. _

Harry's father died that night - _at the hands of Spiderman._

"It's Christmas Harry." Peter stated flatly, but not without a certain sense of emotion in his tone. "It's not good for you to be cooped up here all by yourself. "

He saw the hand moving towards the glass before Harry had even touched it. He flung himself low, under the whir above his head and heard the crash against the wall. The sound of shattering glass and liquid.

"Just get the hell out of here!" Harry snarled.

Peter needed no further encouragement or prodding. He took the cue of the flying glass of alcohol and jumped into the elevator, but not without his own regret and heaviness weighing on his shoulders.

Harry stood rigidly, eyes burning and brows drawn down into a point over the bridge of his nose while clenching his fist. He ground his teeth and then shot a glance to Bernard.

"You can clean that up. "

Bernard gave a nod and watched Harry brusquely turn his back and make his way into the study.

Harry poised himself before the tall, ornate painting of his father and heard the whisper. The whisper that said Norman was somewhere on the other side waiting for the resolution to his pointless demise. His killer must pay for such a heinous crime.

_It was nearly two years after Norman's death. As head of the research division of Oscorp, Harry found himself among one of the youngest millionaires of his time. He had no way of predicting the series of events spurred by his interest in one scientists crazy dream. _

_Dr. Otto Octavious. _

_No way of knowing that Octavious would come to deliver him the very occasion he'd been after since the night his father died in his arms. The chance for revenge. _

_Octavious had developed a fusion reactor, for which he intended to use to generate an endless energy source … and Harry was more than willing to invest in it. That is, until the experiment failed, killing Otto's wife and nearly doing him in as well. Instead, the botched experiment succeeded in turning Octavious into a madman infused with four mechanical tentacles. _

_Harry thought it was the end of his life when Doc. Ock, the freak, barged his way into his home, wrapped his metal tentacles around him and dangled him over the edge of his balcony. Ock was after the tritium, the final ingredient to be added to his newly built reactor. _

_Beyond the terror coursing through his veins, Harry saw it clearly. Harry had something he wanted, and he could get something Harry had wanted, tasted on the tip of his tongue for two years. This creature would be the easiest way to Spiderman. _

_He completed the deal easier than he'd thought possible. Dr. Octopus would bring Harry Spiderman, and he could then take the tritium without any problems or resistance. The malevolent creature seemed almost delighted in committing to such a pact. _

_Harry was in the study, the very room his father was first laid to rest before his burial, when he heard the rustling noise. He was ready to wield the gun until he gasped at the sight of Doc. Ock standing there in the room, Spiderman gathered in his monstrous appendages. _

_A stunned Harry looked on as Ock lay the wall-crawler on the very chaise longue Spiderman had lain him on that night. The night Harry came to hate him. _

_Harry retrieved the tritium from the safe and gave it to Ock and then he was alone. Alone to finally have his revenge. His pulse beat in his ears as he approached ready to take Spiderman's life. But then, he stopped. His father couldn't truly rest until Harry had looked his killer in the eye. Until he knew the face of the man who'd destroyed his life. _

_He gripped the top of the mask, pulled up and then gasped. Under the mask was a killer. Under the mask should have been a face distorted and mangled, unrecognizable. He'd wanted only to see the life draining out of his eyes, the same way it had his fathers. _

_What Harry didn't expect to find under the mask was the eyes of his own best friend staring back at him. A flurry of shock and confusion overwhelmed him. Peter Parker? Spiderman? Peter Parker, the man who murdered his father?_

_His hesitation offered a tactical opening for Peter to beg him to spare his life only for a moment. Only long enough to rescue Mary Jane from Doc. Octopus. If Harry would grant him just this, he would return and then Harry and he could settle the business once and for all. _

_Harry let Peter go, for Mary Jane's sake, but Peter didn't return. _

_Harry paced the floor, clenching the dagger in his hand. Peter had taken everything from him now. His self-respect, his girl and his father. The false friend who feigned empathy was a traitor and a backstabber. _

Harry swirled the ice around in his drink while staring at the painting. _"You know what to do Harry. I was a father to you, now be a son to me." _

He slammed another gulp of alcohol down and then turned to the mirror, staring at his reflection.

_The anger was getting the best of him with every step across the room. He wrenched himself around. What was that? It reminded him of something, something he'd heard before. Something like a voice in a dark corridor … a corridor you never want to walk into. _

_Standing before the mirror, he pictured the funeral. They were all dressed in black on a cold winters day. His back was to the grave when Peter approached. _

_He turned. Peter had the same look on his face. The one that said I'll always be here for you Harry. "I'm so sorry Harry, I know what it's like to loose a father."_

_At the time, Harry supposed that he did, being that Peter had lost not one, but two fathers in his young life. Harry barely blinked as his face grew sterner. "I didn't loose him, he was stolen from me. One day Spiderman will pay. I swear on my fathers grave Spiderman will pay. Thank God for you Peter. You're the only family I have. " _

_His thoughts were brought to an abrupt end when the voice grew louder and a murky figure shadowed the silver pool in the mirror. "Avenge me. Kill Peter Parker and avenge my death! " _

_Harry recognized the image of his father in the mirror, but how could it be? The voice … it was the same … but different. It was evil and dark. He should have left the room, but instead he found himself unable to control the rage running through his body. He yelled and then flung the dagger into the mirror shattering it into pieces. _

_That's when he found it. The lair of the Goblin, hidden behind the mirror. That's when he met the Goblin himself. When the Goblin vowed to do what Harry was too fickle to do. As Harry Osborne, he was weak and damaged, but as the Goblin, he was dark and powerful. As the Goblin, he would avenge his fathers death and make Spiderman pay … he would make Peter Parker pay. _

Norman Osborn was reflected in the silvery glass from his painting on the opposite side of the room. Harry stared into the mirror and noted his father smirking back at him from within it. "You can rest in peace Dad. Spiderman will pay…Peter Parker will pay."

**--**

A/N - I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter out. I've been working on the other two stories, but this one was more difficult to get back to since the subject matter suddenly became a little too close to reality over the Christmas holidays when I lost my mother to cancer. It was a bit difficult to concentrate on, but I'm glad to finally have somethign new here. Thank you so so much for the ones who are still plugged in! There's more to come! :)

I hope you don't mind, but I chose to use one of the older spellings of Octavious's name instead of Octavius. Shrug I suppose it just felt right. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review if you did or you have a suggestion to help make it better! Thanks!


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